


Whipped Cream Dream

by GoodJanet



Category: Mad Men
Genre: Cooking, Dinner, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fantasizing, Fluff, Living Together, Whipped Cream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 11:53:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5204873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodJanet/pseuds/GoodJanet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don and Peggy are living together. Things are going well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whipped Cream Dream

Don decided on beef stroganoff for dinner. Partially because it was easy to make, but also because he was craving some fatty, rich comfort food. He puts a little more salt in the thickening gravy and lifts a steaming spoonful to his mouth. Delicious.

He turns the burner on the gravy on low and goes to the sink to check the colander to see if the noodles had fully drained yet. He reaches behind him and reties the green bow of his apron. The pattern on the front is tiny rows of red and orange tulips. Don can’t remember if Betty had made it or bought it, but it was a familiar feature of the Draper kitchen once upon a time.

Don opens a cupboard and pulls out a large china dish. It’s plain, but Don picked it out because he liked the matte navy blue color. He dumps the noodles, gravy, and beef into the dish and pops it into the oven at 250° to keep it warm. He rinses his hands off in the sink, contemplating making a vegetable dish. They had green beans and carrots and gravy left over…He’d ask her how hungry she was when she got home. Maybe she’d want to skip the nutritious part of the meal and go straight for the dessert.

Don was no expert, but making a key lime pie wasn’t too difficult. He’d opted to skip attempting a meringue and bought whipped cream instead. He hopes she won’t mind that he sprayed some directly into his mouth, as well as on to the pie. Maybe he’d even get her to eat some that way. He didn’t know yet how messy she liked to be, and Don knew from experience not to push. Pushing people past their limits never got good results, and Don certainly knew not to blow things with her. He tries to push away thoughts of licking whipped cream off her lips and breasts.

He doesn’t have to fight it for long because he suddenly hears the front door open and close and a briefcase drop to the floor.

“Don?” she calls.

“In here!” he answers.

He turns of the oven and pulls the stroganoff out. He sets the food on the table and goes to grab plates and utensils. He hears her walk to the bedroom. High heels hit the floor with a clatter. By the time she walks back to the kitchen, the table is set, and Don is standing at the fridge, wondering what drink he should get for her.

She walks over to him with a tired smile. Peggy takes his face between her hands and stands up on tip toes to kiss him.

“This smells delicious.”

He wraps his arms around her tightly.

“You smell delicious,” he murmurs.

“Oh no, we’re not doing anything until I eat something. I haven’t eaten all day because Stan doesn’t know what the heck he’s doing with this assignment!”

Don smiles as Peggy pulls away and sits down.

“Does that mean we can do anything once you’ve eaten?”

She takes a bite and gives him a look. The look that reminds him not to test her right now. He’s half convinced that if he so much as patted her shoulder that he’d come back without a hand.

“Are you going to eat too, or are you going to watch me?” she asks, not unkindly.

Don unties his apron and joins her at the kitchen table.

“I like watching you.”

She tries and fails to hide a smile.

Don reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cigarettes and lighter. He isn’t really hungry yet. Whenever he is as aroused as he is right now, necessities like food and water fall by the wayside. All he can think about is that fluffy white cream on her milk-pale skin. He watches her lick gravy from the corner of her mouth, and he feels himself get hard.

“You’re staring, Don.”

He blinks.

“What?”

She laughs softly. 

“You’re staring at me.”

“I can’t help it,” he says, adjusting in his chair. “All I do is think about you.”

“Surely the great Don Draper must have an imagination to keep him entertained.”

Don releases a cloud of grey smoke into the air.

“I imagine the things I want to do with you.”

This gives Peggy pause. The way he says that makes her realize that he doesn’t mean going out on the town together. She puts her fork down.

“Like what?”

His eyes flick to the fridge and then back to her.

“I bought whipped cream at the market today.”

He watches her cheeks flush pink, and he feels his cock leak in his pants.

“Oh?”

“I wouldn’t ask you to do anything you didn’t want to do, of course, but I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been thinking about covering you in it and licking you clean.”

“Don, I—”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m trying to get better; I really am.”

All he wants to do is touch himself, and he hates himself for it. Hates that Peggy knows he thinks things like that. It’s bad enough to think it, but to _tell_ her is just wrong.

She reaches her hand across the table and grasps his free hand.

“It’s okay to think things, Don. And it’s okay to tell me. I don’t want you to be afraid of telling me things. Even if they’re about whipped cream.”

Some of the tension eases out of his back and shoulders, relieved that she wasn’t angry. That she was patient and kind and understanding. He lifts her hand to his mouth and kisses the top of it gently.

“Thank you,” he husks.

“You’re welcome. Now, is there a dessert that goes along with this whipped cream dream?”

“Key lime pie. Decided to try something new.”

She stands and grabs the pie and cream from the fridge and retrieves to fresh forks as well.

“Let’s eat right from the pan,” she says conspiratorially.

He takes a fork from her and then takes a big bite. It’s pretty good, if he does say so himself.

Peggy pops the lid off the whipped cream can and sprays a fluffy dollop onto her tongue. Don thinks he might die as he watches it dissolve and stick to her lips as she swallows. He moans before he can stop himself. Of course Peggy hears him.

Peggy looks at him and then back to the can before saying, “Maybe you’re on to something, Don?”

“Now don’t be a tease. You just told me ‘no’ a second ago.”

“Don, I never said ‘no’!” she chuckles. “I believe I said, ‘is there a dessert that goes along with this whipped cream dream?’”

Don stares at her, shocked. He puts out the remains of his cigarette.

“You’re staring again, Don.”

Don stands and Peggy quickly follows. He grabs the can.

“Let’s just hope your eyes aren’t bigger than your stomach,” she quips.

They aren’t.


End file.
